


Sometimes You Need Help

by delightfulmania



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Depression, Drinking, Gen, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Party, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Bruce Banner, Self-Harm, Social Anxiety, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 08:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16301531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delightfulmania/pseuds/delightfulmania
Summary: Peter Parker, left stranded in an alleyway bleeding out, has no other option than to call Tony. Tony and Bruce are determined to help get the Spider-ling to happiness and stability.





	Sometimes You Need Help

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter will be mostly setting up the beginning of the story, and a lot of angst. Stay safe guys, and remember to leave kudos and a comment if you like!!

Peter Parker, for all his social anxiety, was currently at a party. He was sitting, wandering somewhere between tipsy and drunk, beside Ned. They had been talking about star wars, although he personally preferred star trek, he still loved his best friend and had sat through each of the movies just for him. There they sat, until their quiet drunken peace was disturbed by none other than Flash, who was, it seemed, far more drunk than them.

“Well look who it is!” He said, his words slurred and his balance off, “Penis Parker, the weakest most utterly stupid creation on this earth. How lame can one be!”

“Fuck off, Flash. You’re drunk and a complete idiot.” Peter spoke, harshly not even looking up from where he stared at the drink in his red cup, trying to ignore the tears stinging at his eyes.

“Bold, are we today? Must be the alcohol. Still a wimp, though I see. Wouldn’t be able to stand his own even if he were rooted to the ground. What a fucking weirdo, you and your weird friend.” He was coming closer, Peter could sense it, and he was on edge.

“Just leave him alone, okay Flash?” Ned spoke up, standing up to face the smaller boy.

“Oh, calm down you fucking nerd. You need to starve yourself or something you ugly bastard.” Flash was almost at Peter now, and his control, weakened by the liquid confidence, snapped, he stood.

“Go the fuck away Flash, you’re just an asshole who thinks he’s cool. Leave. Us. Alone.” Peter knew he had tears in his eyes, knew that under the influence he couldn’t handle these emotions, but he didn’t care. He was sick of being picked on.

“Are you… crying?” Flash commented, outright laughing as he began to mock Peter, moving closer. “Let me wipe those tears for you, you-” And he was interrupted, as Peter shoved Flash backward, forgetting his super strength and watching in shock as he went careening through the crowd, falling back onto his ass.

“Fucking… freak…” Flash muttered, standing up, as everyone stared at Peter, his tears staining his cheeks.

He watched as everyone quietly whispered between each other, judging eyes staring daggers into his chest. So Peter ran, pushing through the crowd to the front door, and out into the street. He kept running, his legs aching as he pushed forward until he collapsed in an alleyway, and sitting on the ground, he pulls out his phone.

“Dead.” He cursed himself, and still overwhelmed by emotion, flips his phone over and takes off the case, picking up the blade he always keeps hidden.

“It’s been a while, huh?” He spoke quietly, into the emptiness of the night, as he bared his forearm to the cold, and let his tears run free. It didn’t take long before his arm was covered in red lines, but he was out of control. Slashing at his arm with violent rage, wishing he didn’t exist. He could barely handle being a teen, how the fuck was he supposed to handle being a so called superhero too? He felt the pressure of responsibility aching in his chest, as if they were chains wrapping around his lungs and making it hard to breathe.

As he stared down at his blood-stained arm he quietly wished he had never ended up here. Had never gone to that party, but beyond that, had never started this awful habit. It had been two years. He was in grade 11, it had all started in grade 9, when his aching soul found comfort in an army knife he had been gifted when he was 10. He found the painful pull of the knife across his skin brought clarity to his mind, let all of the bad that had made its home in his soul out and into the air, out of his head.

And then it got worse, and worse. Before he had been bitten it took ages to heal, once he had to get stitches, but now, now he was powerful. Now it healed faster, not super quickly, but fast enough. In his broken mind, he had all the more reason to do it. From his failures as a hero to all the trauma that weighed on him, he needed it. Needed the slices that left scars all over him to stay sane. So it got deeper, they got bloodier, but tonight, he had crossed a line.

As he sat against the wall, coming down from the adrenaline that coursed through his veins, he realized that he was probably bleeding out. As he looked down, he saw not one but two cuts that were too deep, too wide, too dangerous. With that, he realized, he had fucked up.

"God what am I supposed to do now?" He sighed aloud, to no one in particular. That was when he realized that he had the emergency call bracelet that alerted Tony to his whereabouts. 

"No, I can't do that, I can't get him involved." Peter looked back down at his arm, and didn't know what do.

He felt faint, without any source of bandages and already freezing in the cold of the autumn night, alcohol still running through his veins, he was lost. He didn't know where he was, or how to get out of this mess. As he cursed himself, for being an idiot, for letting this happen, he pressed the button reluctantly. If he wasn't still feeling the effects of the alcohol he might have been more likely to not, but he was scared and alone. He needed Tony.

It was five minutes later when the Iron Man suit landed beside him, and out stepped Tony, looking panicked and disheveled, and as he raked his eyes over Peter, shocked.

"What's going on kid? Why'd you call me? Are you okay?" Tony stammered out, quickly moving to kneel in front of Peter, eyes full of concern.

"My... my phones dead and I'm bleeding out and I'm also slightly drunk, and all in all tonight isn't going very well." He let out all at once, still looking down and refusing to meet the older man's eyes as he held out his arm.

"Holy shi- kid who did this to you? What happened? I swear I'll fight someone if they ever hurt you, you know that." Tony almost growled, as he pulled a first aid kit out of his jacket and wrapped his arm in it, "that'll hold for now but you really need stitches, okay? I may be good at lots of things but medical isn't my area."

"I uh, I did it?" Peter finally looked up, tears still watering in his eyes, scared of what Tony would think, "I did it to myself, I know it's stupid, but I-" 

Tony cut him off, finishing the bandaging and bringing his hands to Peters shoulders gently, sorrow and concern filling his eyes.

"Oh god I should have known, I should have been there for you more kid I'm sorry." His memory going back to the lines he had just covered with bandages, cursing himself for not realizing what was fairly obvious. "Been going on for a while then?" He asked.

"Yeah for uh... for about 2 years. Never been this bad. Probably the alcohol making me not think about mistakes and all that: He softly laughed, leaning into the older man's chest without thinking.

Tony sighed, pulling the kid into a hug, being careful of his injured arm.

"Oh kid, I wish I could help more. We're gonna make this better though okay? We're gonna fix this, and I'm gonna help fix you." Tony began to stand up, lifting the kid with him, "right now we gotta focus on the former though okay? Get you all patched up."

They headed home, and as soon as they got there they were met with a worried Bruce, who had been on backup in case things got out of hand.

"Guys! What happened? Is Peter okay?" Bruce started, hands clasped nervously.

“He’s in one piece, that’s what matters. Gonna need a few stitches though.” Tony had his arm around Peter’s shoulders, and he gently gestured to the bandaged arm Peter was currently cradling against his chest.

Peter stumbled, and as Tony caught him, Bruce seemed to understand the general gist of the situation, from the worried eyes of Tony, to the tears staining Peter’s cheeks, and the gauze-wrapped arm. 

“Alright, let’s get you patched up okay Peter?” He silently swore to protect this kid from whatever the world could throw at him, because he had been where he was, and had the scars to prove it.

“Okay.” Peter spoke quietly, still feeling faint from the loss of blood and alcohol, and the general emotional wear of the nights events.

Tony handed the smaller boy off to Bruce, who took him to the medbay as Tony disappeared, going off to clean himself up and wipe the stress from his eyes, and begin his plan.


End file.
